


Black Tie Affair

by ifwednesdaywasaflowerchild



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 13:55:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20977007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifwednesdaywasaflowerchild/pseuds/ifwednesdaywasaflowerchild
Summary: While attending the latest black tie event hosted by Tony Stark, James and Wanda sneak off to the bathroom for a little fete of their own.





	Black Tie Affair

"What're you doin'?" he mumbles around the foamy toothbrush in his mouth, bleary eyes watching her in the mirror.

Wanda merely smiles, scooping more of her favorite lemon body butter into her palm, and dragging streaks of it across her abdomen. He pauses, toothpaste dripping down his chin, watching her skin soak up the lotion. It's a subtle infusion of lemon into soft, soft skin, and he's certain to enjoy pressing his face there later.

"Dripping, James." she points out, digging through her makeup bag until she finds what she's looking for. A thin white sheet with two flesh toned flowers. She peels one off and carefully presses it over her dark pink nipple. She repeats it with the other.

James whimpers around a mouthful of foam. Honestly, it can't be healthy to brush your teeth this much. But, it's just - he's developed, or explored maybe, a recent fascination with her nipples. The interesting texture and color. The ease with which he could harden them, both with his fingers and his mouth. The way she squirmed when he used his metal appendage to do it. Cold metal and warm skin clashing deliciously.

She smoothes an invisible wrinkle in the dark silk dress before removing it from the hanger and stepping into it. He rinses his mouth, wipes his face, and growls through the sting of aftershave.

"James?" she's clasping the dress to her chest, green eyes pleading for help. "Zip?"

"Of course, doll." he drops the towel he'd wiped his hands on and motions for her to turn around.

The expanse of peaches and cream that forms Wanda's exquisite back is bare and his for the taking. And, he'd happily do so, if she wasn't so hell-bent on attending this fundraiser. He didn't quite understand it, but she'd been adamant and he's a sucker for green eyes and kiss bitten lips.

He can have a little fun, though. A casual drag of his fingers up to the base of her neck, where he palms dark hair and warm skin, still pink from the heat of the bathroom.

"Not now, James." she prances just out of reach when his wayward fingers begin their journey back down.

Green silk shifts around her knees, hugging her body, and he shudders with arousal at the sight of Wanda palming her own breasts and adjusting them in the confines of her dress.

If he did that, he'd have her whimpering in seconds. He'd alternate between the heavy heat of his palm and the firm pinch of his fingers until her nipple hardened and sucking on it made her writhe helplessly.

Until her panties were soaked.

"You look beautiful, Doll." he smiles and it's genuine but he is also genuinely about to explode from the thrum of arousal. He nuzzles in close, pressing her into the counter, maintaining eye contact. He slips his hand up her dress until he reaches the soft lace of her panties, just damp with the beginnings of arousal, of frustration, and presses his fingers to her sex. "I'm going to destroy these, later."

"Is that a promise?" Wanda flutters painted eyelashes up at her husband. "Should I take them off, now, then?"

"If you go into that party without them, I'll kill everyone." James growls, heavy blue eyes tracing every delectable curve. "It's not a promise, doll. It's a fact."

"Looking forward to it." Wanda offers a coy smile.

James just grins wickedly.

...

He swallows hard when soft hands come near his throat, slipping buttons through holes, and adjusting the collar. She can see him swallow once...twice...three times. The smell of aftershave, pine forest and mint, clings to his five o'clock shadow and the collar of his shirt because he doesn't bother with cologne. His aftershave is plenty of fragrance for him.

"You should relax, James." Wanda fingers the knot in his tie, soft black silk, a faint pattern of gray plaid. Barely noticeable unless the light catches it. The way it catches the bulge of certain muscles, sinks shadows into the crooks and crevices and falls over him like a halo.

She tightens the knot, setting the length of black silk into place. Her hands take a little detour down his chest, smoothing, feeling things. The way his shirt shifts with his breath, the way one gap between the buttons is over his weak spot, that inch or so of skin and nerve above his waist band that drives him crazy when touched.

Or, ravaged.

She slips her finger in the gap and grazes hot skin. The nerve endings spark, his eyes glaze over, and a most unmanly noise is torn from his throat by her touch. Again, the pad of her finger scrapes throbbing nerves. Again, he makes a noise that would usually only ever come from an infant.

"You should not play with me." Wanda growls, dark, dangerous, eyes flashing with lust.

As if to prove her point, she traces the line of his throbbing dick. He's aching, hot, and his dress pants are too slick, even with the barrier of his boxers to provide anything in the way of friction.

He's hard and helpless. Despite his best efforts, she still gained the upper hand, and she hadn't used her magic to do it.

“You should keep your hands to yourself, Witch.” James snarls, eyes almost black from dilated pupils. “Before I make ribbons out of that dress.”

Her answering smile is coy, a flash of white between burgundy lips. She's too good at the innocent card. Especially when he knows she's anything but. The handcuffs still hanging from their headboard were proof enough of that. She'd let him dominate, the silent agreement of it being a needed catharsis passing between them as she let him cuff her to the bed and shove a pillow under her hips.

He'd tormented her in the best way. Thoroughly kissed lips, a bruised collarbone, pinched and hard nipples, and love bites painting her stomach. He'd sunk fingers into her, curling, twisting them until she teetered on the brink of absolute ecstasy. Then, he'd gone in with his tongue, lapping and exploring and pulling her until she tumbled over and sunk into the heat of orgasm.

And, as much as she longed for that, again, they had an obligation to fulfill and she intended to make good on her promise to attend. If she could keep James from tearing her dress off of her. 

"Now, now, James." Wanda clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Be a proper gentleman." 

"Oh, I will, sweetheart." a long, warm drawl, all Brooklyn and smoke. "But, when we get back, I'm gonna make rags of that pretty little dress." 

"I'm counting on it." Wanda touches his chin on her way to gather her wrap and her clutch. "Come along, James. Steve is waiting." 

... 

"Beer, please?" James slumps forward on the bar, resting an elbow on the slick surface, and releasing a ragged breath. "And a red wine for the lady." 

The bartender nods. 

Wanda is in the restroom with Natasha - he thinks, it very well could have been Pepper. Too many redheads for him to keep up with, anymore - and had asked him to get her a red wine if he found his way to the bar. Tony is laughing with Rhodey and Sam in the corner, and it must have been Natasha because he finds Steve lingering near the exit, waiting for them the re-enter the ballroom, while Pepper is sort of doing her best to hide behind Tony. 

It'd been a hell of a year for them, so he understands her wanting to be close. He's watching her slide her arms around Tony when the bartender returns with his beer and Wanda's wine. "Here you are." 

"Here." 

He tips generously for the two drinks and wonders where the hell he's supposed to go, now. Wanda isn't - oh, wait, there she is, giggling happily with Natasha and waving to Steve as the redhead folds herself away in his arms. She finds her way back to him and leans up to kiss his cheek as she takes the wine from him. 

"Thank you, James." she breathes, tilting back down to her normal height - well, with the addition of heels. The wine is dark and when she takes a sip of it, the heady flavor sinks into her taste buds and warms her veins. 

Without him noticing, she slips something from her clutch, and into the pocket of his tuxedo pants. She's being twirled into a dance with Sam, who has already finagled all the dances he can out of Maria, which was a grand total of one, when James sees the spark in her eyes; a clever little ember in the eerie green. 

What is she up to? 

He chooses to ignore the fire burning deep in his stomach and instead leans back to watch her dance with Sam, pulling a long drag from his beer, and slipping a hand into his pocket only to encounter something soft and damp. Further exploration reveals it to have a distinct texture and a certain warmth to it, something he's felt before, on someone.

Given that the hand holding the beer is made of metal, he feels it best to set the bottle down on the bar when realization dawns, hot and fierce. His eyes widen almost comically and he chokes on the alcohol in his throat. 

And, now, she's there twirling in Sam's arms in that sinful dress, braless except for the nipple concealing stickers he'd whimpered about earlier, and _pantiless_. 

_Shit._

No, seriously. Shit. His wife is dancing with one of his best friends, without a bra or panties, and if the lace in his pocket was any indication, she is drenched. After he's managed to pick up what's left of his composure, he slides into the dancing crowd, and moves with them until he's reached his girl. 

"Hey Sam, mind if I borrow my girl for a dance?" Bucky tilts his head, eyes alight with mischief. Sam looks between him and a freshly flushed Wanda, with a raised eyebrow, but says nothing, just spins her into Bucky, and mumbles something about "_kinky son of a bitch._" as he goes to find his girlfriend, who is making friends with a gin and tonic, at the moment. 

Wanda settles into a dance with Bucky, a light hand on his shoulder and the other in his, maintaining a comfortable distance between them. But, he's having none of it, instead, he yanks her in close, forces her against his chest, and presses his mouth to her ear to growl his inquiry. 

"Care to tell me why I have a pair of soaking wet panties in my pocket, Witch?" 

Painted eyelashes form perfect crescents against her cheekbones, and a shaky breath escapes her, sinking between them in perfect harmony with the dip of the melody into a brassier baritone, something sharp but deep. 

"You tempted me in that suit." her accent catches on the T, always has, probably always will, and it still makes him suck in a sharp breath because it puts emphasis exactly where she wants it. 

Well, that, and her accent is just dripping sex. 

"And, you don't look like a perfect sin in that dress?" he retorts harshly, careful to keep his voice quiet, even if it is strained. Her cheeks flush, a bloom of red along perfect cheekbones, voice disappearing at the sincerity in his roughly voiced compliment. "I want to take you into the bathroom and make you scream my name." 

"Why don't you?" 

... 

The bathroom counter is cold under her thighs, contrasting the heated ferocity of James' mouth on her jugular. Vague notes from the Gala's orchestra float into the restroom, soft and random, and she's reminded of how public this is, she becomes aware of how anyone could walk in at any time. 

"Don't think so much, doll." James reprimands, sinking his teeth into her soft skin. It goes white beneath his teeth but he'll enjoy seeing the red marks later. His hands trail up her calves, listening to the faint whine it tugs from a reluctant Wanda. "I wanna hear you." 

"Public, James." Wanda reminds him, even as she tilts her head to give him better access, sighing happily when he licks his bite mark in approval. 

"Don't care," his fingers curl under her knees, his real hand teasing that ticklish spot on the inside of her right one. "I want to hear you." 

A breathless noise and he's relenting, moving his hands, pressing her inner thighs, urging her to open them. Her legs part without hesitation, stretching the hem of the dress, forcing it up, drawing his hands higher, seeking more of her soft skin. He keeps his metal hand on one thigh, holding her still, while the other seeks her out. 

She's bare, wet skin and throbbing heat when draws his fingers over her, eliciting a whimper from her. "You're drenched, doll." he breathes, teasing her entrance. "Baby, how long have you been walking around like this?" 

"All night, James." Wanda pants, curling her fingers over the edge of the counter. "Since we left." 

His thumb presses on her clit and he sinks two fingers into her, groaning against her neck when she clenches around his hand. His warm noise of approval draws a happy sigh from her, one he can only assume she'll repeat if he does it again. So, he withdraws and again, sinks his fingers into her, groaning in appreciation at the feel of her, even around his hand. And, again, she makes the same sort of happy sound. 

A wanton arch of her back presses her bare shoulders against the cold mirror and pushes her hips out, giving him easier access. The heat runs rampant in his blood, scorching trails of _want_ and _lust_ all the way down to his aching dick. She's so wet and feels so, so good around him, he wants more of her. He wants to explore her, with his fingers, his tongue, and he wants every part of her underneath him. 

But, he'll have to settle. 

Or, so he thinks. 

"Not good enough," Wanda finally pushes his hands away and sits up, reaching for his belt. "I want you. All of you. Now." 

"Doll, this is - " 

"Stark's done worse." Wanda cuts him off, a little curt, mostly due to sexual frustration, but her face flushes red when she explains how she knows Tony's sexual exploits. "Trust me, I've been inside his mind. I've seen memories I wish I hadn't." 

James can't help it. He slumps forward, dropping his head to her shoulder to laugh, despite the arousal thrumming in his veins. He's quick to sober up when her hands fumble with his belt, pulling expensive leather and metal until it's unbuckled and she can unbutton his pants. 

"Wan - oh, shit!" it's her turn to giggle, high and sweet, at his gasp of shock when she yanks his pants and boxers down and takes him in her hand. "What're you doing?" 

"Getting what I want." Wanda offers him a wicked grin. "I've been told I'm very good at it. Only, you don't seem to want to play." 

"If I play the way you want, you'll have this place covered in magic." James whispers, drawing his mouth along the shell of her ear. "They're not quite drunk enough to not be suspicious, yet, doll." 

Wanda simpers, batting her pretty painted lashes at him, and drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. Watching her teeth sink into her soft pout is enough to close his eyes against a wave of unbridled ecstasy. The plea is unspoken, please, James. Give me what I want. 

"Fine," he finally hisses. "But no magic!" 

"I do not make promises I cannot keep, James." her accent gets him - always. He's such a sucker for it - and he curls his fingers into the fabric bunched against her hips. It takes him all of two seconds to lift her from the counter and spin them, pinning her to the wall. 

Magic hisses beneath her skin when he just brushes against her, eager, dripping, and hard as steel. They are both grateful for the one gynecologist willing to see Wanda and give her birth control because neither of them have ruled out the possibility that unprotected sex will lead to a pregnancy and neither of them have condoms.   
Self-control is also severely lacking at the moment. 

It's not quite as fast as a _quickie_ entails, but it is harder than their usual sex. Even with some of the kinkier foreplay, the actual sex is usually pretty tender and slow, both of them far too tortured by pasts full of mutation, experimentation, and pain to think about doing anything that could hurt the other. 

She's never pushed his boundaries, and he never wants to push hers, unless it's consensual. 

But, this. 

This feels good. 

Good enough, his name is a mess of syllables on her tongue, sometimes breathy and soft, other times loud and sharp and driving him higher, pushing him further. Her name is whispered like a prayer when ecstasy burns down his spine, falling off his tongue, dripping down her skin. 

It all converges in the sweetest high, his name screamed to the heavens, hers breathed over the edge of a steep cliff right before he falls. Her magic is barely contained within her and he feels it tingling when she clenches down around him, milking him, urging him to give her everything. 

"Christ, Wanda." a sharp gasp of her name is followed his retreat from her. She's sensitive and the flutter of her around him is almost enough to ready him for round two, but they have a party to make a re-appearance at. 

Wanda just grins the same wicked grin and shakily makes her way to the mirror to fix herself. She tugs her dress down, fixes her breasts back into place, and does her best to smooth the sex hair that this little romp has left her with. 

"Oh," he pulls her still-damp panties from his pocket, holding them up for her to see in the mirror. "I think these are yours." 

"Keep them." Wanda's wicked grin returns. "Call it incentive to make our reappearance brief." 

She turns on her heel, takes the lace from him, and stuffs them back into his pocket. With a patronizing tap of his chest, she's leaving the bathroom, and a stunned James to follow her. The other party-goers seem relatively unaware of what went down in the bathroom but Sam seems to know, offering the pair a head-tilt and a knowing smirk as they rejoin couples on the dance floor. 

Her incentive works. 

They are at home for round two in less than half an hour.


End file.
